


Calmer Skies

by Birdpeople (DeusExMachina)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Basically Sollux is hired as a mechanic to fix the Psiioniic, It's all in the past but if you don't like that then be warned, Warnings for the shit that was done to the Psiioniic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2242845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeusExMachina/pseuds/Birdpeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So what’s your problem?” he bursts out, apparently unable to listen any longer. “If you don’t cooperate, they’re going to rip you out, scrap you, and put me in your place. Do you actually want that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course not. Fuck, I thought you were actually smart. This ship has been practically retired for a very long time. The only reason the Condesce would decide that she suddenly wants me back online is if she’s scared that she’ll be needing a strong helmsman in the near future. We’re going to war again, and I’m damned if I’m going to roll over and let that bitch have an easy time of it this time around.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calmer Skies

Your new mechanic is supposed to arrive tonight. It’s not a thing you have high enough clearance to be made aware of, but you’ve long-since hacked all of the note-to-self systems of the higher-ups on board.

 

You stretch, with little success, you note, your muscles have been stiff for sweeps, and try to settle yourself in the twisted heap of bioware you call home. Well no, you don’t really call it that, but if you’re going to call it something, it may as well be home.

 

You listen to the footsteps coming closer, squint as the lights come flickering on. This must be the new mechanic in question. Time to meet the kid.

 

Your fist shock comes when you realized that he really _is_ a kid. Or at least, he is to you. Must be no more than what, eight, nine sweeps? This kid was wriggling out of the breeding caves while you were out there conquering galaxies. Not to sound like a reminiscent old sod or anything.

 

He seems a little revolted at the state of you, and although your pride objects, you can’t help but agree. There’s blood and some, what’s that? You’re not sure, some _other fluid_ caked around your hardware connections, and your hair needed a trim several sweeps ago.

 

He sets down a tool-box and runs a hand wearily through his hair, muttering, “What an obsolete piece of junk. Dunno why they don’t scrap him.” He’s got a charming lisp, and apparently an even more charming personality. You shift indignantly.

 

“Piece of junk yourself,” you snap. “How many planets have you terrorized, kid? Not a hell of a lot, I’d imagine.” The kid jumped and turned a pale, ill-looking gray. You wonder why, until you realize that you had spoken aloud, rather than projecting onto the overhead display.

 

“Holy hell,” he whispered. “How are you still functioning? I mean, you’re practically an antique.”

 

Just for that, you decide this kid is not going to have an easy job. Not if you can help it.

 

You sneer at him. It’s a thing you picked up from the highbloods, but oh well. “What’s your story, kid?”

 

He ignores you, favoring setting down his tool kit and rummaging through it on the floor. You growl, and with a flick of an order, set a light on the nearby console to blinking. With a curse, he rushes off to stop it doing that, and you promptly flick it off before he even reaches it. Petty, but effective. When he returns to your view field, his cheeks are sallow and yellowish with embarrassment. Interesting.

 

“You a mustard-blood?” You ask, curiously.

 

“Of course I am,” he snaps, “Everyone knows all the best psionics are. And I’ve been neatly roped into the job of babysitter for your slimy ass on pain of taking your place if I should fail to maintain you properly.”

 

You snort. “Take my place? Her royal bitchiness has yet to find a helmsman she feels remotely safe replacing me with.”

 

“Yeah, well I guess we’re both in luck,” the kid growls, “If I were a few sweeps older and more experienced, I’d fit the bill nicely.”

 

That gives you pause, and gives the kid enough time to pull out some sort of meter from his tool box and approach your consoles again.

 

After a moment of awkward hovering, he tells you he’s going to plug in the meter and check your power levels. You tell him like hell he is and clamp the emergency shunts down over every port you can find. From what you can hear, the kid almost loses a finger when you do it, and you switch to one of the screen-mounted cameras to silently gloat as his curses float back to you.

 

When he quiets down, you lay it out for him. “I’ve been here for thousands of sweeps, kid. Since the original revolution. I knew the Signless before he was ever called the Sufferer. He was a good man and an even better soldier. I don’t take crap from anyone, not her royal hot-pink-clamshell, and not from some wriggler fresh out of the academy. I do just fine by myself here.”

 

“ _No you do not!”_ he practically screams at you. He’s easily agitated. You store this information for later. “You are barely working at this point. You may be the Helmsman, but you sure as hell aren’t fit to lead a goddamn insurgence, let alone a siege! My job is to get you back online, _or I’m the one who gets trisected and pinned up in your place you self-centered screen-saver!_ ” He’s breathing heavily. “And for your information, I never attended an academy. And my name is Sollux. _Not_ that either of those things are any of your business.”

 

“What’s your clearance level, SX?” You ask obnoxiously. He glares at you. “Low then, I’d hazard. You’re right, you know. I’m a freaking genius. I am the best helmsman the Condesce ever got her cold little claws in. But I’m old hat. This ship, warship though it is, is sadly outdated. I haven’t been given anything important to do in far too long. This is probably an excuse to watch you struggle and fail to put humpty-dumpty back together so the higher-ups will be able to justify heaving me ho, as it were.” He’s paying attention, you know he is, even though his back is to you. You switch to camera-feed so you can see his reactions.

 

“For the last few perigees, this ship has seen more action than usual. I won’t lie to you, I’ve had to scramble to hide my tracks when they ripped out the old nav-systems. Those assholes still don’t realize just how firmly I’ve rooted myself into the framework of this system. I’ve got clearance like most of the crew will never have. They’re re-vamping the ship, making her ready for war, and now they’ve sent you to do the same to me.”

 

“So what’s your problem?” he bursts out, apparently unable to listen any longer. “If you don’t cooperate, they’re going to rip you out, scrap you, and put me in your place. Do you actually want that?”

 

“Of course not. Fuck, I thought you were actually smart. This ship has been practically retired for a very long time. The only reason the Condesce would decide that she suddenly wants me back online is if she’s scared that she’ll be needing a strong helmsman in the near future. We’re going to war again, and I’m damned if I’m going to roll over and let that bitch have an easy time of it this time around.”

 

Sollux seemed shocked. Maybe he legitimately thought that the sweeps of inactivity had dulled you. “But…” ah, he speaks. “But you realize that I’m going to have to do my best to fix you if I want to live. Surely you don’t want me to give up my life so that Her Imperious Condescension can cull me and find another psionic who has no qualms about shorting your consciousness and jury-rigging your energy directly into the mainframe? What the hell do you want me to do?”

 

Your mind was whirling. The kid was certainly not stupid. A coward, but not like you could blame him, young as he was. “Fix me,” you said. “Do you job and let all the blame rest with me.”

 

“But they’ll still-”

 

“Pull me?” You shrug, or get as close to shrugging as you can manage. “So be it. Make yourself a great mechanic and maybe they won’t.”

 

“I hate maybes.”

 

“Tough shit.”

 

He glares at you. You wonder how to convince him. You wonder for the ten thousandth time how the Signless convinced all of those good trolls to lay down their lives for his cause. It must have been pure force of personality and wordsmithing, because he certainly had never shown an once of actual charm, no sir.

 

“Listen,” you say carefully, “I’m dug in deep here. I have access to things so classified I would get yanked in an instant if anyone knew. But I’m quiet. And sneaky. And smart. No one knows. And if you fix me, if you can make me work again, we’ll have real power on our sides. I’m still the best damn helmsman Condy has. Whatever’s going on, I’m going to be allowed a certain amount of pull. I don’t want a war, and you don’t want a war, so we need to play along for now. Wait. Watch.”

 

The kid stands there, staring at you. His hands are shaking. But mother-of-pearl, his eyes are hard. He nods.

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's still Homestuck trash. This guuuyyyy. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr at quasi-birdpeople.tumblr.com


End file.
